


Feeder for Hire

by CaptainKate (CrazyTenor42)



Series: Teen Wolf "Get Beached" Weight Gain [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby Derek Hale, Fat!Derek, Humiliation, M/M, Teasing, Weight Gain, feeder!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25550704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyTenor42/pseuds/CaptainKate
Summary: Written for "Get Beached" Challenge WeekPrompts: Captive/Captor Relationship, Size Pride, Too Fat for ThingsDerek hires Stiles as his feeder. A series of snippets about their growing relationship...
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Teen Wolf "Get Beached" Weight Gain [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1816936
Comments: 3
Kudos: 83





	Feeder for Hire

**Author's Note:**

> A little more explicit than I usually write - and a little bit OOC. I couldn't get the idea out of my head of Derek being into gaining weight, but thinking he should just be teased for it and Stiles slowly coaxes him into accepting belly rubs and stuffing aftercare...It is definitely something I want to explore in a full-length story :)

“You sure about this guy?”

For the last time, yes, Scott. I’ll text you his address and a photo and if you don’t hear from me -”

“ - by five in the morning, call the cops. I know the deal. You haven’t gone to anyone’s house in years. I thought you said no more?”

Stiles shrugged. “He’s hot as hell, we’ve done some video sessions before, and he pays…really well. A few nights a week with him and I can pay off this semester.”

“Have fun! Text me if anything…comes up.” Scott grinned, although Stiles knew he was still hesitant about how he made his income.

Stiles nodded, making sure he grabbed his keys, doubled checked he had his phone, the contract, and his preference lists in his pocket before leaving their dorm.   
Derek – although that could very well be a fake name – had met Stiles through a gainer website three years back, admitting he had followed Stiles’ page for awhile before messaging him. It had been a few months of exchanging back and forth conversations before Derek had asked about paid video sessions, and then in-person feedings. Scott was right, Stiles very rarely offered to do in session feedings, but Derek was a special case. Not only did he live only a few towns over, unlike most of the guys he dealt with, Derek was polite, almost embarrassed of his wants, tipped extremely well, and meshed well with Stiles. He had a snarky, quick wit and, from what Stiles had seen through a few pictures and fuzzy video screens, was exactly Stiles’ type.

Tall, dark, handsome, a wide bubble butt, thighs that rubbed together with each step, and a slightly furry pot-belly that was quickly becoming more of a blubbery gut as he passed three-hundred and fifty pounds, and kept going. Stiles has asked once if he had a goal weight. Derek admitted he didn’t know. He had already gained seventy-five pounds since he had first messaged Stiles. 

Stiles had read through Derek’s profile a hundred times. He had requested short scenes, getting Derek through a stuffing, teasing and humiliating and forcing him to finish if needed. It was a little colder and more forceful than what Stiles usually liked to do with partners, but he wasn’t going to judge Derek for his interests. 

1) Teasing and humiliation only. No praise.  
2) Hitting/spanking/pain, okay.  
3) I will provide the food. I expect to be forced to finish it all, by any means.   
4) Funnel and tube feeding okay.   
5) Tying down okay, rope or cloths only.   
6) No blindfold.   
7) You are not to let me come or touch myself until I’ve finished eating.   
8) I will pay half up front, half when you leave.   
9) Safe word: Triskelion 

In return, Stiles provided a similar list, including his safe word, Scott. His were more focused on what he wouldn’t do, regardless of his clients’ request. It was a short list, mostly consisting of bodily fluids like spitting on clients, inflation, and serious pain. He had a feeling most would be a moot point with Derek, but he hadn’t felt the need to adjust his standard contract. 

*******

Their second session went similarly to their first, minus the awkward introductions. Once again, Derek had set out the same spread of food on his table. Pan of alfredo pasta, chicken, blender full of gainer power and ice cream, and peanut butter brownies.

“You must really love pasta.”

“Highest calories.”

“Do you like it?”

Derek only shrugged.

“Do you cook? I don’t have an oven or anything in the dorm, but if you don’t mind me using your kitchen, I could come earlier and help – ”

“ – I order delivery.”

“That’s a crime, man. You have a brand-new kitchen! Stainless steel!”

“More work.”

“Is that why you don’t talk much? Too much work?”

That earned him something that was close to a smile. “You talk enough for both of us.”

“Guess it is hard to talk with all that food in your mouth, Big Guy.”

“Does it look like I’m eating?”

“You better fix that, then. I’m surprised a pig like you could hold back around all this food.”

That did it. Derek’s eyes darkened in arousal and he immediately sank into his chair and pulled the chicken closer towards him. Dutifully, Stiles pulled up a chair next to him, poking him in the stomach periodically and making remarks. 

“Slowing down already? You only finished the chicken; I know you aren’t done yet.”

“You didn’t get that figure from moderation.”

“Jeans a little tight? Hold up that flabby gut for me and I’ll unbutton them. Wouldn’t want that to stop you from stuffing your face with even more…”

It was more natural with Derek. Stiles often had to revert to a script with other clients, repeating a few phrases he knew they wanted to hear. He did have to bite back his urge to praise Derek for his sizeable appetite, tell him how good he looked blissfully stuffed, panting and belching even as he reached for more. It was a shame Derek didn’t want to be worshipped or hand fed, treated softly like Stiles would have loved to do.

“Can’t – urp – too full.”

Stiles held up the half empty pitcher. “Drink it.”

Derek groaned and rest both hands on the side of his overstuffed stomach. “’m gonna pop.”

Stiles desperately wanted to slide his hands under Derek’s shirt and ease some of that fullness for him. It took a lot of self-control and mental reminders of Derek’s request to instead push down on the curve of his gut, eliciting a huge belch. As soon as he opened his mouth, Stiles tipped the contents of the pitcher slowly down’s Derek throat. 

“See? Plenty of room.” 

“No – urp- no more. URP.”

“Too bad.” Stiles told him, making sure Derek swallowed another mouthful before pulling the pitcher back slightly. “Should have thought about that before you finished all that food like a greedy hog.”

“ ‘S not my fault,” Derek panted, dutifully gulping down a few more mouthfuls. 

“No?” Stiles knelt down besides Derek, slipping a hand under Derek’s paunch to palm his throbbing erection. “You haven’t been getting hard, thinking about how much you’ve been eating? How fat this is going to make you?”

“I – fuuuck. How much – uuuurp- left?”

“Only a little bit. Why don’t you finish it off?” 

Derek took the pitcher from Stiles, breathing heavily, clearly pushing himself to finish the little remaining. 

“Getting too big for this,” Stiles told him, pinching his fleshly lower belly with one hand as he took his time jerking Derek off with his other. “Going to need both hands just to hold up all this blubber. Can you even get yourself off anymore? Or is your belly in the way?”

Derek came with a breathless moan, cut short by him cursing and stifling another belch. Stiles wished he could see Derek’s face in its entirety, but from his angle on the ground, the mountainous sphere blocked his view. 

Grinning, Stiles got to his feet. “Knew you could finish it.”

He gave Derek a few minutes for his breathing to slow, then gestured at his swollen midsection. “Want help with that? I give amazing belly rubs, dude.”

“Don’t – urp- call me dude.” 

“Is that a no?”

“Yes. Go home. I’ll send you the other half of your payment.”

Stiles nodded unhappily. “Fine. Text me if you’d like to schedule another session. Goodnight, Derek.”

He left, leaving Derek slumped uncomfortably in his chair, jean unbuttoned, come splattered on his lower belly. 

*******

“Derek, sorry, hi! I’m here. Only…thirty minutes late. Shit, I’m sorry. The jeep was having problems starting and then it started raining….”

“I started eating without you.” Derek shrugged. “What was wrong with the jeep now?”

“Same thing. It’s an old car. It was pay for textbooks or pay for a new engine.” Derek looked guilty, like he was responsible for Stiles’ financial hardships, even though he was the main contributor to Stiles’ bank account, so Stiles added, “I’ll have it fixed next semester, probably.”

“If – if you ever need a ride or anything, you can borrow the Camaro.”

Stiles gaped at him. Derek was very protective of the car sitting in his driveway. Stiles had never seen a spot on it. He wasn’t even allowed to park the jeep anywhere near it because Derek was so afraid of it being damaged. 

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I’ll have to get a, ah, roomier one, eventually.” 

“Too much of a spare tire?” Stiles laughed, pressing himself against said belly so he could, just barely, reach behind Derek to grab handfuls of his ass. “Too much junk in the trunk?” 

“Both. And if you’re done with the bad metaphors…. you’re soaking wet. Take off your clothes before you catch something,” Derek said gruffly. “You can borrow some of mine.”

Derek had a clear wet splotch on his shirt from where Stiles had leaned into him. Now that he was inside and less frantic about being late, Stiles realized he was shivering and dripping on Derek’s floor. 

“Or we could both get out of these clothes and go upstairs.”

“That – yeah. Or that.”

It wasn’t what they usually did. Derek had rarely seen Stiles undressed, and normally Derek was too full to do much of anything in the bedroom. Stiles was happy to do all of the work, relishing the feeling of Derek’s belly resting against his back or riding Derek, watching his breasts and belly wobble. He frequently had to remind himself that Derek was a client, who requested teasing, not admiration and compliments, no matter how badly Stiles wanted to give them.

The contrast between them was even more apparent when they were together in the bedroom. Stiles threw his wet clothes by the doorway and eagerly got Derek out of his own. Pressed up against Derek, he had the chance to really appreciate how massive the other man was. Stiles’ leaned against him to press their lips together and Derek’s waistline spread out to either side of him. 

“It’s official. Can’t wrap my arms around you anymore.” 

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Nope. You’re that fat.”

Derek pushed him down on the bed. “Not to fat to fuck you.”

“Yet,” breathed Stiles, grabbing Derek’s side rolls as he was pinned to the bed by Derek’s lard. Derek had himself propped up with both arms. His doughy belly still hung low enough to press against Stiles, but it kept his weight from being completely crushing. “Keep gorging yourself and you will be.”

“Think so?”

“It’d be a good look for you. Stuffed, too fat to get out of bed, laying there like a beached whale and letting me do all the work.”

“Mhmn. You’d be up to that?”

“I’d be my favorite job,” Stiles told him honestly. “How long do you think, Der? Ten years? Five? I’ve seen all the ice cream in your fridge and the fast food wrappers the trash. Immobility isn’t that far away.”

“’S your fault.” He moved one hand to smack his gut, watching it quiver. “Getting harder to jerk off with all this in the way.”

“Awww, no wonder you need me. Your belly weighs more than me. Gonna be too much effort to try and find your dick buried in all that flab.”

“Fuck,” Derek moaned, rutting against Stiles. Beads of sweat were forming on Derek’s forehead from the exertion of holding himself up. Stiles swatted at his arm and tried to wiggle out from under him. The heavier man got the hint and collapsed on the bed next to Stiles, trying to catch his breath. 

“Still up to pounding me into the mattress?” 

“Give me…a minute.”

“Take all the time you need. Want me to bring the rest of your dinner up first?”

“…yes.”

*******  
Derek was dressed in a suit when he answered the door for Stiles. It was clearly an expensive piece, tailored to a man a few pounds smaller. The pants were stretched thin over Derek’s thighs and the jacket button was equally as stretched. 

“Hey, Derek! That suit is a good look.”

“Work ran late,” Derek told him gruffly. “I didn’t have time to order the food. I’ll pay you for the extra time.”

Stiles waved a hand. “No worries. Rough day at work?”

“Yes.” 

“Want to talk about it?”

Derek looked unsure. Stiles took a step forward and unbuttoned his jacket, helping Derek shrug if off, then started on his shirt buttons. After a few seconds, Derek burst out, “I hate being the asshole boss! I know – I know what they say about me behind my back. But they don’t understand! A missed deadline means we all look bad and with talks of layoffs and restructuring, we can’t afford any mistakes.”

“They’ll warm up to you. You’re secretly as soft as you look.”

“You don’t know me, Stiles,” Derek said tiredly. 

“I know enough. You’re a good guy. Why don’t you relax? Take a bath, change, and I’ll order food. Sounds like you need chocolate. If you like chocolate.”

“What?”

“Chocolate. For bad days? Like chocolate cake? Or ice cream?" 

“It’s been awhile since I had either. I was going to order the usual.”

Stiles shook his head. “Trust me, if you’re upset, you’re going to feel awful if you stuff yourself. I had something else in mind, if it’s okay.”

Derek looked hesitant. 

“I was thinking, you eat your weight in desserts while I eat you out?”

“Let’s- yeah. We can do that.”

“Then get that fat ass in the shower,” Stiles laughed, “and I’ll bring the food upstairs when it arrives.”

*******  
Stiles had been hesitant since he walked in the door. Derek had been less talkative than usual, admitting only he stopped for fast food on his way home from work, before he had started on their nightly feast.

“Eating without me?”

“Ran into my ex,” Derek admitted through a mouthful of food. “Said a few…choice words about my weight.”

“So you went into McDonalds to spite her?”

“She’s a bitch.”

Stiles laughed uncomfortably. Derek was acting nonchalant, but still seemed upset. “Guess so. Look on her face must have been priceless.” 

“Can’t have anyone thinking I got to be this size on accident.”

“The way you eat? I doubt anyone thinks that. How much did you order at McDonalds?”

“Twenty-piece nugget, double cheeseburger, milkshakes, two large fries.”

“Jeeze. Still think you can finish all this?” He saw Derek struggling more than usual to take bite after bite. Derek took a bite and then gagged; hand clamped over his mouth like he was going to be sick. “Are you okay?”

Derek took a few seconds, hand still clamped over his mouth, before swallowing and nodding weakly. “I’m fine. Must’ve swallowed too fast.”

“Maybe you should take a break for a little?”

“No,” Derek told him firmly, stabbing his fork back into the chicken, “I’m fine.”

Stiles could tell he wasn’t. His stomach was stretched out further than Stiles has ever seen, stretch marks an angry red. Derek had to be in pain. His arm was wavering, breath coming in shallow pants, each burp looking like it would result in a total upheaval of his entire meal. Stiles wasn’t sure he could sit and watch Derek force himself bite by bite to finish the sizeable amount of food left. 

“Scott,” Stiles gasped out, “Derek, Scott.”

Derek immediately froze. “Fuck, are you – is it a panic attack? What…urp- can I do?”

“No. No. I’m fine. It’s – I can’t watch you do this.”

“You haven’t had a problem with it before.”

“Usually you’re enjoying.”

“I can – urp – keep going.”

“You almost threw up. Tell me you didn’t, Derek.”

“Jus’ need a few minutes….”

“No.” Stiles slid the food a few inches away. Derek reached forward, belly grumbling audibly as he groaned in pain, and fell back into his chair, glaring at Stiles. 

“Then you can go. I’ll pay you for the full session.”

“Dude, no way I’m leaving you like this.”

“Mmpppfh. S’fine.”

“No, it isn’t. Think you can make it upstairs?”

Derek made it, but it was a laborious task. Stiles helped him slowly to his feet and kept a steading hand on the small of Derek’s back as he waddled up the stairs, taking one step by a time in agonizingly slow steps, trying not to jostle his overstuffed middle weighing him down. He finally made it and sunk with a groan of relief on the bed. 

Stiles bent down and pulled off Derek’s shoes and socks. “Stand up, Big Guy. You’ll be more comfortable with less clothes.”

“Ngggh.”

“Come on,” Stiles laughed, pinching his inner thigh, “only a few seconds and you can lay back down.”

Derek reluctantly got to his feet so Stiles could pull his jeans down around his ankles while Derek tugged off his shirt. As soon as it was done, he fell back on the bed. 

“’M too full to do anything.”

“No sex tonight,” Stiles promised. “This might be better.”

He rubbed circles over the top of Derek’s gut, which was so taut with food it had lost its usual softness. Occasionally, he would stop to trace over the multitude of stretchmarks, or press a little bit harder, massaging away the soreness. Eventually, Derek’s heavy, labored breathing, belches and groans fell away to the snoring and snuffling.


End file.
